


Day 3. Slice

by Munnin



Series: Fictober [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: The seedy corners of Canto Bight hold their own secrets. If you know how to read them.





	Day 3. Slice

**Author's Note:**

> Although this story is not set during the Clone Wars, it does set a scene for someone we'll get to know better. In due course.

Canto Bight was a world of dichotomies. For every high rolling casino and glizy hotel, there were as many dive-bars and seedy corners. 

Madam Fu’s was both, a dive and seedy. The decor was a cobbled mess of chairs and tables ‘liberated’ from the dumpsters of classier places. No two glasses matched. Much like Madam Fu herself who, it was said, had more prosthetic parts than original flesh.

For all its seediness, Madam Fu’s was frequently host to the major domos, right hands and personal assistants to the most powerful club owners on Canto Bight. 

Why? Because of her open mic sessions. 

Bright young things washed up in on Canto Bight every day. Run-aways, hopefuls, wannabes. Everyone who came to Canto Bight was chasing a dream of some kind or another. And quite a few of them wanted to be stars.

But whispers, rumours and street-gossip, the beating heart of Canto Bight, funnelled the ones who wanted to be famous musicians to Madam Fu’s. To stand up on that stage and do whatever it was they did, in the hopes that someone important would notice and make their dreams come true.

And important people did notice. Important people sent their talent scouts to Madam Fu’s to watch and listen. And to find the kybers in the rough. Madam Fu had no objection to this. Her business thrived on ‘facilitating contracts’, which more often than not meant selling those bright, wide eyed young beings into the equivalent of indentured servitude. 

And she was so good at it, that most of them thanked her for it.

But it was also a hangout for seasoned musicians, the ones canny and experienced enough to read their own contracts. If you were in town and in need of work, you rolled up at Madam Fu’s and waited your turn to sing for your supper. 

Which was exactly what Nari was doing. Not that she liked being on Canto Bight. In general, Nari hated desert worlds. Being Bith, her massive black eyes were evolved for swamps and jungles, lubricated by the humid air. Even in the semi air-conditioned darkness of Madam Fu’s, she still had to apply drops every now and then to keep her lidless eyes from cracking. 

But there was work to be had on Canto Bight. And Madam Fu’s was where you looked.

She’d come in at the wrong hour though. The dead zone before sunset and early morning. Foolishly, most of the bright young hopefuls thought it was the best time to try to impress but anyone important was still back in their own clubs, dealing with the business of getting rich. No-one worth impressing would be here before their own guests were drunk or passed out, or too poor to keep playing.

At this hour, not even Madam Fu bothered to charm and ensnare the bright young things. Mostly she sent them away to rest or fed them well watered-down drinks to string them along until the real show started. But she kept the mic open for anyone who wanted to put on a show, letting the experienced ones use it as a warm up.

And there were a few serious musicians in the bar tonight, all nodding politely to each other or settling old debts with a round of drinks. She didn’t mind them. There wasn’t much profit in them but they always paid for their drinks and it gave the young ones something to aspire to. 

And with the Festival of Light coming up, there would be plenty of work to go around for the old hands, so no-one was in a particularly competitive mood. 

It meant Madam Fu’s open mic became something more of a jam session. 

Nari sat back and watched as a quick game of chance cubes determined whose turn it was to go next. Most of the old hands here tonight knew each other, and more than a few season duets or bands might well be formed out of the banter. 

Which was why Swan stood out.

Swan Le was well known in the music circles. Talented, yes. No one would argue that. Anyone who really knew their trade knew who Swan was. A technical genius with the songsteel flute and a master composer.

But what Swan was not, was a people person. His music was brilliant but he didn’t know how to perform. Or how to sell himself. On stage, he was as impressive to watch as a drowned wamp-rat. 

Which was odd, because he was quite lovely to look at.

Or so Nari knew… objectively. Personally, her reproductive organs atrophied over ten years ago. An impulse she no longer needed, or wanted. It got in the way of her career. But she could acknowledge on a purely aesthetic level, Swan was appealing.

Part of what made him appealing was his exoticism. Neither she, nor anyone she’d spoken to about him could pin down his race. He had the light blue skin of a Pantoran, or a Pantoran half-breed maybe but his features weren’t round enough to be Pantoran. A delicate, almost elfin face; large very dark blue eyes, and high cheekbones. He was lean, almost androgynous. His age was hard to guess. If he’d been human she might have said he was in his middle years but he wasn’t human and she very much doubted he was that young.

It was his hair that fascinated people most. Nari had only seem him without his accustomed flat cap once and rather than hair, he had a wide crest of pale, almost translucent white feathers, fine as gossamer silk. 

But for all that Swan could have sold himself on his looks alone, he didn’t have the charisma for it. Swan just… played.

His music was transcendent. 

For a Bith, the capability of sensing the tonal qualities of sound is as natural as other races sensing colours, Swan’s compositions were rich and complex. Enough to bring Nari to tears, if she’d had tear-ducts that is. As it was her cheek flaps reddened as she listened.

And listen she did. As did almost everyone else in the room.

But of all them, only Nari got the message. 

Soon enough, it was her turn. She took up her double jocimer and played. Not as clever or complex as Swan perhaps but using the full range of her instrument. 

They played back and forth like that for a good couple of hours, taking turns with other musicians until the hours of serious business began and Madam Fu shooed them off-stage to give the bright young things their chance to shine. And make her a profit. 

Nari was approached by several of the large casinos to play for the festival. After all, she knew how to put on a show. 

Swan had a few offers, all of which he turned down, mumbling his apologies and claiming he already had a contract for the season, that he’d just come to Madam Fu’s to catch up with friends.

Lies, of course. Swan wasn’t one to socialise at all. In the years he and Nari had moved in the same circles, she’d never heard him talk to anyone for more than a few minutes. Always preferring to retreat to his own corner and company.

She stepped out of Madam Fu’s near dawn, cursing the dry, desert air and her stinging eyes as she lugged her double jocimer back to her hotel.

A lanky Zabrak shadowed her for a few blocks before falling into step beside her. “Did you get it?” 

“Oh yes.” She hummed happily at her partner, the bounty hunter’s hand slipping into hers. “But it will take me a few hours to transcribe.”

“And you’re sure the code is good? It’ll slice what we need?”

“Trust me, darling. Swan’s a pro. He’s never let me down.”

The bounty hunter cocked his head. “I’ve had your back all night. I never saw you talk to him. Never saw any hand-off between you. How’d you do it?”

If Biths could grin, Nari would have. “Let’s just say Swan Le and I speak the same language.”

The precise timing of a melody, the spacing of notes and stops, the distance in scale and pitch. It was all mathematics. Nari wasn’t sure if anyone else in galaxy would have known just how much Swan commentated in his music. She had stumbled on it by chance, catching him taunting the Master Codebreaker with series of notes she recognised as the Codebreaker’s true name. 

Only then had she realised that Swan wasn’t just some talented musician who lacked showmanship. He was a slicer, a codebreaker of the highest order. And one who had no interest in the petty games of people like Master Codebreaker or his sycophant sidekick, Lovey.

He was elite. Much like herself. 

It was from there, she had taught herself to hear his code and answer in kind. Theirs had been a flirtation of sound, a courtship of melody. A mutual trust that transcended the physical.

Philia – the love of the mind. 

Something her Zabrak partner would never understand. He was all physical and far too easy to manipulate. And for now, that suited her needs.

She had people to see, things to do. And a LOT of money to steal.

**Author's Note:**

> Josh! You beautiful man! Thank you.


End file.
